


The Way I'm Loving You

by poisontaster



Series: Every Broken Thing [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hand Jobs, POV Outsider, Past Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-10
Updated: 2006-05-10
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5545871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's so much Jess doesn't know about Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way I'm Loving You

Jess is a little nervous.

Not a lot. Not freak-out nervous. Just a little. Sam is pretty much the most easy-going of guys. But every once in a while, she gets the inkling Sam could actually be kind of dangerous when crossed. Not that he'd ever hurt _her_ ; Jess has never in her life felt quite as safe as she does with Sam. But. It does add a level of…uncertainty when she's about to do something new and different.

He's at the kitchen table, books piled around him like he brought the whole library home. "Hey," he says, as she comes behind him and winds her arms around his neck. His hand is big enough to span her crossed wrists, a realization that never fails to be hot.

"Hey," she says, a little squeaky with excitement. She kisses his cheek and then the side of his mouth. He's already halfway back in his book. "Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"I have an idea."

"What's that?" Sam grabs his coffee with his off hand and brings it to his mouth, his other thumb stroking her skin in absent affection.

"I think I want to jerk you off."

Sam chokes, spews coffee over half the kitchen and almost flips her over his shoulder as he lurches forward, coughing frantically.

Jess can't help the giggles that bubble up in her. Well. That went well.

Oddly enough, it takes a while to talk him into it. "Are you sure?" he asks—more than once, to a point where she rolls her eyes and asks _him_ what he's doing with her if he's so squeamish about having her hand on his dick.

"No," he says, rubbing his forehead the way he does when he's worried about something. "I didn't mean… It's not that."

Oh hell. Sometimes a girl has to take the bull by the proverbial horns. So to speak. Seated practically knee to knee with him in one of the other kitchen chairs, it's easy enough for her to lean forward and put her hand on his cock. It shudders and Sam jumps about halfway out his seat and she rears back, laughing her ass off. "Oh," she says, hand hovering over her mouth, "oh baby, you should see your face."

"Jesus, Jess, this is just…" Sam makes vague flustered gestures with his hands. "It's just a little weird, okay?"

"It's weird that I want to touch you? That I want to make you feel good? Jeez, Sam, you sure know how to flatter a girl." Sam starts to get that helpless, worried look and she rubs her fingers over his arm. "I'm kidding," she tells him. She scoots her chair a little closer. "I do want to touch you, though. I want to…I want to _know_ you." Another look, this one more hunted, haunted and quickly she veers back, knowing those are dangerous waters. "I want to know what you like, how you like it. C'mon, Sam." She puts both hands on his knees and slides them slowly up towards his crotch, kneading. His breath catches and races and she watches his eyes turn more brown than green. "What's the big deal?"

Sam shakes his head and shifts a little in the chair and she realizes he's hard, a solid and tangible line against his thigh. "It's not a big deal…" he starts.

"Okay, then." Jess has had enough of the bullshit. It only takes a minute to flick open the button and zipper on his jeans, peel them back and free him from his boxers. He's already slightly shiny with precome at the tip and Jess bites her lip in concentration as she wraps her fingers around him and starts to stroke.

"Oh…oh, _Jess_ …"

"C'mon, Sam," she invites, her own voice huskier than normal. "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

Sam puts his fingers over hers, completely covering her hand. He nudges her thumb to slide hard over the head. His voice gets all deep and shit and he growls, "Rougher."

And Jess is…damn. She is just...turned the fuck on. Because for all his dorky shyness the rest of the time, Sam in the bedroom is sex on fucking legs. _Long_ legs. Sam's eyes half-close as they stroke together for a while, hard and slow, so hard it must verge on pain. Sam's starting to kind of curl up. Sagging and falling forward into her, like he's going to put his forehead on her shoulder. Except…

"Sam, I can't see. I want to _see_." She pushes him back in the chair with her other hand, harder than she means to. Not that he seems to mind, panting and gasping and making little choked off moans.

"Jess--" His voice cracks on the single syllable and she squirms a little herself, hot and flushed, her breasts and belly heavy and liquid.

"Oh come on, Sam," she says, struggling to sound normal. "That was the whole point. It's no fun if I don't get to watch. Now. What else?"

Sam just doesn't seem understand. With his pupils dilated full-bore, his eyes look even darker, glazed and glittering. "What else?"

"Yeah." Jess's tongue wets her half-open lips. "What else do you like?"

"What I'd like is to take you in the bedroom and do this...properly...oh, fuck, Jesus... _Jess_..."

God she loves it when he calls her name, the way he says it. "No," she says decisively. "That wasn't the deal." She scoots the chair closer to his with her butt and puts her legs over his outspread knees so she's spread wide but pinning him down at the same time. She can smell herself and him, not-quite mingled scents of sex and want, wet and sort of salty. "I want to watch you come, Sam. I wanna see it. I want to know what you like. Don't you think we should know what turns each other on?"

"Oh my God..." Sam's sagging again, despite her hand on his shoulder. His hips make little helpless bucks counterpoint to her grip. "Jess, I can't...I can't..."

"Sam." She pushes the hair back from his face. "Baby... Just tell me what you want. Tell me how. Show me what you like."

He swallows, hard enough she can hear it and it's just... God, if she wasn't determined to see this through, she'd just push her panties to one side and jump him here. Now. Like this. Fuck. She might anyway.

"Harder," he says finally, guiding her hand over him. His mouth sounds dry, even though his lips are wet, pink. "Like this...and...oh...oh, _Jess_... Fuck. Twist just...just a little at the end."

"Like this?"

Sam's cock jerks in her grip like it's got a life of its own and Sam just stops breathing for a second. Jess grins, delighted.

She does it again.

"Jess!" Squeaky this time, with his hips lifting up and tipping her back, just a bit. Jess squeaks herself, shifting her weight forward, more heavily across his knees until she's almost in his lap.

This close, she lets herself lean forward and capture his bottom lip in her teeth. Sam groans and the hand he's got locked around the chair's seat comes up to grip the side of her face. His tongue dances over her lips, soft and fluid, then slips between them and oh _fuck_ she shouldn't have done this because Sam is a fucking _sexass_ kisser.

"Jess," he mutters against her mouth, "God, Jess, let me, oh...let me, Jess...come on..."

Jess takes a breath and forces herself backwards, pushes Sam back from her and tries out that little flicking twist again.

"Faster," he gasps. "I…Jess, please, faster now…"

 _The head_ , she thinks. She traces firm, rough circles around the head and ridge of his dick, spreading sticky slick precome all over and then that's it. Sam's hand clamps down on her shoulder and he's tensing and crying and coming all over her in warm spurts that splash over her hand and onto her thighs and even her belly, soaking into her short tee.

"Jess," he says, "Jess, oh God, Jess."

And she likes the sound of that.


End file.
